Antimacy
by RiddlemethisVoldy
Summary: HP/TMR Obscure branches of magic weren't exactly the best to mess around with. Even if you are a sixteen year old prodigy... If you wave that wand around too much you might just land yourself in a sticky situation. (Alternate Universe)
1. Prologue

_**Disclaimer:**_ I will only say this once, I do not own Harry Potter and I am not using this for means of making money. I also do not own the song Antimacy by Dead and Divine, that this fan-fiction is based off of.

 _ **Note:**_ This is a male x male story between our innocent young dark lord who has a fetish for murder, and Harry Potter who is very confused. Additional info can be found at the end.

Harry James Potter was by all means average. He had a mom and a dad, and Godfather and Godmother. This was customary for the wizarding world. Although, he had to admit he was far closer to Sirius Black than he was Alice Longbottom. He went to school, and he was captain of his sports' team Gryffindor. Harry was average height, or maybe just a little bit shorter. He was 5'5 and had messy black hair that refused to be tamed.

However, there were a few things about this sixteen year old wizard that were fairly unnatural. Firstly, he was a genius. He graduated Hogwarts in his sixth year to his exceptional scores. His strengths lie in powerful light charms, defense spells, and hexes. Harry used to be abysmal in potions, however with help from his mother, Lily, he became acceptable. He was able to act quickly on his feet without thinking hard, thanks to his auror father and Godfather.

There was one more unnatural thing about Harry and that was his eyes. If you glanced at them only once, they appeared to be a pretty shade of emerald green. But of course, that was nothing to covet. But if you really looked, they weren't actually emerald green at all. They were a striking, commanding avada color that burned with his emotions. He was horrible at disguising them.

Of course none of this mattered at the current moment as his mother was calling for him to come downstairs. It was Christmas, and the Potter's had a tradition. Every Christmas they would go to Number 12 Grimmauld Place with Remus Lupin, the Weasley's, and Hermione Granger. Remus, James, and Sirius were old friends. Ronald Weasely and the twins were good friends of Harry's, and so was Hermione. Then of course there was Ginny Weasley. She had fiery red hair and a spunky personality that drove Harry wild. He liked daring people, and she definitely fit the mold.

Harry quickly grabbed a Christmas bag that sat beside his bed stand. He placed an undetectable extension charm on it and quickly began placing gifts inside of it, "Coming mum!" He was only sixteen, yes. However, since he graduated early the ministry made an exception for him and the trace was taken off of him, and he was allowed to do magic outside of school. It came in handy for his daily life of course, but Harry also did many things by hand himself. He believed it added character himself and gave him patience that many people his age didn't have.

He headed down the stairs to where his mother was and grinned as she quickly pulled him into a tight hug. His mother had red hair as well, it seemed that perhaps Potter men had a thing for red heads... She smiled at him impishly, "Good. If you took any longer I was afraid we would be late. And you know what happens if you're late..." She trailed off then and laughed as soon as Harry used the floo network to get into Grimmauld Place. If you were the last person to arrive for Christmas you'd have to eat one of Sirius's experimental holiday treats. He managed to somehow take good tasting ingredients and ruin them...

Harry and his mom were luckily not the last ones to arrive. That was actually Harry's father, James Potter. He had won the...um, prize quite a few times actually. Sometimes Harry had to wonder if perhaps his father was some super creature who wasn't affected by the treats that should definitely not be moving. But then he watched his father's face turn green from sickness as he ingested it. No, his father wasn't a super creature. He just always seemed to have a reason to be late. In this case Harry noticed it was a parcel. It was wrapped in red and green wrapping paper and it was tied with only a string. By the way it hung Harry quickly concluded that it was clothing of some sort, and it was for him thanks to the name tag that stuck to the string.

After the last person to arrive, James, ate the um...nutrients, it was present time. Harry had written a letter to his mother. She always seemed to prefer things of sentiment. For his father he had gotten him a signed quidditch book from a world famous seeker. For Ronald he got a rare type of magical treat, for Hermione a charmed bracelet he had designed himself that allowed her to record things and play them back. For an example if she were going to miss a lecture she could give it to a friend and it would record the lesson for her. For the Weasley's, he always got them different charms to add to there enchanted clock. And so on so forth.

His present pile was remarkably the same for the last few years. Hermione got him a book, Sirius and Remus both supplied him with galleons, Ronald got him a quidditch book, and the Weasley's gave him a customary maroon sweater with a gold H on the front of it. However, by the rather serious look on his father's face he could tell that he was about to get something of great importance.

James Potter adjusted his glasses slightly as he held out the clothing parcel to Harry. "Normally I would wait until you were seventeen to give this to you," he said, "It's customary to wait until then. However, seeing as that you are an exceptional child...I mean of course you are. Look at me, I'm awesome. Lily's awesome. Any child of ours is going to be double the awesome. Anyways...I would like for you to have this. It's been in our family for generations."

Sometimes, it did often make Harry wonder how on Earth he didn't grow up to be arrogant like his father. He meant well of course, and most of the time his father didn't mean what he spurted out. Harry thought it was actually because James was slightly awkward when it came to words and he just spewed out whatever made him sound strong. So perhaps it wasn't that his father was truly an arrogant person, perhaps it was just a habit by now? He wasn't sure.

He opened the parcel with nimble fingers and found himself staring at a shimmering cloak of many colors and intricate design patters. The fabric was silky, and almost felt like liquid against his skin. Harry took a deep breath and slowly draped it over his right arm. Just like he suspected, his right arm 'disappeared.' This was an invisibility cloak, and something about it was extraordinarily special. This meant a lot to his father. Harry soon found that his throat was very dry and that for once he was at a loss of words. He didn't say anything and instead he tightly wrapped his father in a hug without shame. It must have taken his father a lot to part with it...

James laughed slightly and was quite happy to pull his son in for a deeper hug, "So...I take it that you like it?"

Harry only proceeded to nod quickly, "Of course I do! It means that with this I'll finally be able to out-prank you." That was another huge thing about his family. They often pranked each other, for no particular reason other than just fun. This earned a laugh from his father and Sirius Black. The latter of whom, gave him a thumbs up.

After the Christmas party died down, Harry told his mother that he was going to upstairs to the library. Of course, that wasn't a rare thing at all. He spent half of his time in them. His favorites were dusty old tomes that hardly anyone wanted to look at anymore. Those were his absolute favorites. You see, Harry Potter reveled in knowledge. Knowledge was power, after all. He liked knowing things that no one else did. And, if you wanted knowledge that not a lot of people knew, the Black family library was a very good idea.

Harry glanced through the numerous book bindings. He had read through many of these a number of times, but there were a few darker ones that he had never touched. His avada eyes glided over the book covers until they focused on just one. The binding was faded. It looked like it hadn't been touched in a very long time. There were few remnants of the title, mostly just gold lettering that didn't spell out anything in particular. Or at least, now you couldn't tell. He wondered what was in there...

Harry quickly grabbed the book and scrolled through its contents. Most of it was magical theory revolving around time and space. Tiny little leaps through time, about an hour at most. Of course...Harry had heard about this sort of thing through Hermione's time turner she had in her third year. But in this way, it could be done with just a spell. And in this way...he really could out prank his father. The only trouble was, he didn't know the spell. But no matter. Harry wasn't a so called genius for nothing. If anyone could preform an unknown spell on their first try, it was him.

So he simply cleared his throat and waved his wand...and everything messed up from there.

 _ **Notes at the end:**_ Alright so some info about this universe, as I'm sure you'll want to know. In the beginning Harry Potter is an ordinary teenage boy, or at least slightly ordinary. He's not the Boy-Who-Lived, and his parents are still very well and alive. The dark lord Voldemort, is not a dark lord at all, he's merely a politician. Life seems good. Actually scratch that, it is good. However, Harry Potter is a prodigy in this universe who is unafraid to tackle anything. When he stumbles upon a book in the Black Library he finds out that messing with unknown types of magic isn't the best idea.

Harry Potter is then taken to an alternate universe that is modern times, but Grindlewald is still at large and Dumbledore is a transfiguration professor. Most unfortunately for Harry, young Tom Marvolo Riddle doesn't plan on becoming a mere politician in this world. He wants to be an immortal mass murdering dark lord. Oh and one more thing, Tom Riddle doesn't like to be challenged...but of course things don't always work out how we want them to.

As for a few changed aspects of Harry's personality... One) In this Harry will be more confident in himself due to the factor he was raised by his parents, who I have no doubt would have encouraged him throughout his whole life. Two) Even without the horcrux Harry will still have Slytherin qualities, and will still have denied the sorting hat the chance of putting him in Slytherin. Why? A huge part of being a Slytherin is having cunning and ambition. Harry, being raised by the marauders, has a thirst to prove himself just as brilliantly as he can. Getting out of trouble is also a huge plus, of course. Three) In this fan=fiction Harry will also be given a strong sense of intuition that's borderline being a Seer. Why? Well, _why not?_


	2. Chapter 1

Tom Marvolo Riddle. It was only a name. Perhaps it was silly to let a name get under his skin. Even still, if he focused on it with such hunger...then perhaps it wasn't only a name. Perhaps it was so much more than just a name. It symbolized everything he hated. Firstly, a man who would abandon his pregnant wife. Of course, the man didn't love her and he under the influence of a love potion. However, what sort of dignity did a man have to just leave a woman who was with child? Obviously he was lower than dirt. Secondly, it symbolized everything ordinary. If you were ordinary, you were just another lamb. The name Tom was so common. Even if it was his name, he couldn't help the glare he sent to people who dared utter it. Thirdly, he was a muggle. He was a helpless creature who couldn't use magic. He was truly named after a pathetic creature.

Sure, it was just a name. But honestly, it was so much more. Perhaps to others it was just letters. But he refused to infinitely be tied to something so irritating. Yes, something. That thing could not even be considered a someone anymore. His name for now was Tom Marvolo Riddle. But in the future, he would not have a name. He would erase it, if possible.

You see, he despised the concept of names. It was a label. It was like a tag that you wore, and if people knew it, they could use it. You would come when called, you were expected to answer when called. When people knew your name, they already knew a lot about you. No one seemed to realize that. He would have pitied them, had he been anyone else.

A gentle feminine voice interrupted his thoughts, "Tom? What are you thinking about?" His dark eyes snapped to the girl who the voice belonged to. Greengrass. He supposed she was pretty. But, looks were nothing in the end game. Her head was unfortunately filled with sawdust. A terrible waste of the beauty she possessed.

Tom was known for being charismatic. He wasn't really. You see, behind flawless smile that he sent her, there were flies that buzzed. All you smelled was roses. All that was illusion. He really reeked of rot. "Ah, forgive me. I was merely wondering if the transfiguration essay I turned in for professor Dumbledore was satisfactory. He didn't seemed to pleased with my work today," he murmured.

It was an excuse he could easily use. He had many of them up his sleeve. All could easily be valid, none were true. Dumbledore was never pleased with Tom. No matter how excellently he did in the old man's class, he was thrown suspicious glances and maybe five points here or there. Dumbledore smelled the rot, or so it seemed. No matter. Everyone was disposable. He couldn't act yet. But one day...one sweet day he wouldn't have to look into those irritating twinkling eyes again. Perhaps on that day he would smile and truly mean it.

Greengrass took his lies for truth and tucked some of her blonde hair behind one of her ears, "No, forgive me. I should have known. He was in a dreadful mood today. However, I'm sure there's nothing to worry about. Your work is always beyond satisfactory." With that and a slight nod of her head she left.

Everyone in Slytherin house took his words for truth. That doesn't mean they believed him. Slytherin's weren't stupid, far from it. They had a high self-preservation. If Tom said that two plus two was five, they would all admit that it did indeed add up to five. Even if evidence suggested the answer was four. They risked looking like idiots, but would you rather be an idiot or dead? That's how Slytherin house worked. They were carnivorous wolves ready to devour anyone who defied the Slytherin king. Who of course, was Tom himself.

He used to be nothing more than a supposed dirty mud blood. He used to be the blight on their Slytherin society. He was the troll among the beautiful people. Until it was revealed that in power he could best them all. The fact that his tongue could understand the liquid sharpness of a snake's helped to. Parselmouths were strictly related to Salazar Slytherin. Tom used his basic deduction skills. Everyone who spoke the language of the snakes was related to Salazar Slytherin. Tom was a parselmouth. So therefore, Tom was related to Salazar Slytherin. If anyone had the right to be crowned in the Slytherin hierarchy, it was him.

Of course he wasn't worried about his transfiguration essay. He was top in the school. He already had all of his work done as well. There was nothing left for him to do except for brood and make plans for the future. He could sit here in his own company, or suffer in the presence of fools. He was more inclined to ponder. Lately his life had taken on a boring toll. He needed something new to do with it, craved something new to do with it.

The thing was he already had plans. Very detailed ones. The only problem was that he needed time. But time was not a luxury. Tom wanted one thing that man was not granted with. Immorality. He found a method that would allow him to be immortal. Horcruxes. It involved murder and splitting one's soul in half. The only problem was that he couldn't murder someone while in Hogwarts. Not with that dreaded Dumbledore around anyways. He needed to kill someone indirectly. And he found just the way to do that. The Chamber of Secrets. The basilisk inside could kill whomever it wanted, as long as it was tied to the heir of Slytherin it would still work directly for his advantage.

If it would have been possible, he would have made his father his first horcrux. He wanted to see the light leave his eyes as he uttered the killing curse. He wanted to see the life in his dad's body leave as the room lighted up with a sickening green color. Tom Riddle was indeed patient. He could have waited...but he didn't want to die. He wouldn't be taking any chances. That is exactly why the Chamber of Secrets was needed.

He had progressed a little further with his research on finding the Chamber of Secrets. Once he found it that would be plenty of entertainment. But for now he needed something else. Just a little something to toy around with. He liked to toy with things, people. He liked to mess with them, press their buttons. And when all was said and done, he broke them. Tom needed a new plaything.

One moment his almost ebony eyes were staring at a bookshelf. The next moment they were staring at a boy. Or rather, the floating head of a boy with piercing green eyes. The oddly colored eyes widened as they flicked around erratically. Tom got the odd sense that the boy was definitely not supposed to be here. This theory was proven correct a few seconds later when the boy looked him right in the eyes and exclaimed, "Merlin, please no..."

Merlin, please no? Tom Riddle smirked internally. It seemed something interesting had fallen into his den. Perhaps some grand being out there happened to like him after all... Or maybe Fate just liked to toy with people and their lives far more than Tom ever did.


	3. Chapter 2

The tugging sensation in his stomach had at first assured Harry that it had worked. He was a genius, why wouldn't it work for him? Then he opened his eyes, and he wasn't so certain of himself anymore. Something had worked, but what? This wasn't just an hour transporting spell. It had to have some other property to it as well. Maybe it transported people across space as well? He clearly wasn't in the Black library anymore.

Instead, he was in another library. It looked a lot like Hogwarts's library now that he thought about it. It was still huge inside, with numerous different sections for books. It was a lot lighter inside than the previous library he had just been in. A lot of the books here were also strictly light material, curtousy of Albus Dumbledore. Harry didn't have anything against Dumbledore in particular, unless you counted the fact that Harry despised any type of prejudice in the wizarding world. Muggleborns, dark magic...what did any of that matter? The world wasn't strictly black and white. Unfortunately, many people didn't see it to be that way.

If this was Hogwarts, he could just go and get Severus's approval to use his floo network and head back home. Initially, the rather bitter potions' proffessor seemed to have a profound dislike for Harry. He got over that rather quickly after Lily Potter had found out. It turned out that in school his father and the other marauders seemed to have it out for a certain hook nosed proffessor. Severus clearly thought Harry would be the same due to his tragic bird nest of a mane, but that was not the case. Once he understood that, they grew rather close. Their relationship was nothing mushy, but Harry did like to admit he got a smile out of the man once. He liked to do the apparently impossible.

He was convinced this was Hogwarts, it had to be. But there was something that stopped him from taking off out of the library's exit. A few seconds later, and he had his answer. The furniture in the library seemed different. It had more of an antique vibe to it. Nothing was wrong with that, of course. It's just...he doubted the decor of Hogwarts would change so drastically in only a year. Dumbledore had never done such a thing before.

That was only one of the major factors, however. The biggest one was a boy sitting in an arm chair, dark eyes fixed on Harry. The boy wasn't the factor. It the book in his hand. That book was rare. It didn't belong in the library of Hogwarts, it belonged in the Black library. It was on some particularly nasty curses. Normally this wouldn't have mattered to Harry so much, if the book didn't have a green stain on the back of it. That green stain had always been there, ever since Harry could remember. That wasn't just an odd book to have at Hogwarts. That was the book that should have been residing in Grimmauld Place. Why was it in that boy's hands? Better yet, who was that boy? He had aristocratic features, but he wasn't a Black.

Harry quickly took off his newly inherited invisibility cloak and shrunk it before quickly stuffing it in his leftside pocket. He cautiously approached the boy and tried to think of the least odd question he possibly could, "Uh, hello. Would you mind telling me who your headmaster is? I'm afraid I'm lost."

The dark, hooded eyes of the boy revealed nothing. They reminded Harry oddly of what a black hole might look like. Void of everything, only existing for the appearance of normalcy. Since people said that the eyes were windows to the soul, that was an unsettling thought. His voice was polite, but just as void, "Our headmaster is Aramando Dippet. Since you said you were lost, would you allow me to escort you to his office?"

If Harry would have been your average run-of-the-mill Gryffindor he never would have noticed the boy pulling on puppet strings. However, Harry wasn't your average Gryffindor and he did notice. The boy used Harry's tidbit of a bit too much information to his advantage. Perhaps he should have just asked who the headmaster was. But that felt a little too odd to just ask someone out of the blue, especially if you just came out of nowhere. Now he would be forced to be guided by someone unknown boy, even though he already knew where the headmaster's office was. Not to mention he didn't actually want to see the headmaster. He merely wanted information pertaining to him. But no, he was Harry Potter. Odd things seemed to happen to him all the time.

He gave the unknown boy a quick smile that didn't reach his eyes, "Yes, thank you. That would be extremely helpful."

The boy offered up a polite smile that didn't reach his eyes. He stood up and placed the suspicious book in a bag that he took with him. He held his head high. One thing that Harry could admire was his posture. The boy stood tall, but he didn't seem stiff like so many others that tried. "Then, let's be on our way. Shall we?" He questioned as he began to head out of the library. The boy didn't bother looking back. He assumed that Harry was lost in terms of location. Harry followed him for the sake of keeping up that illusion.

Hogwarts looked the same. Same ancient looking castle just ringing with magic. Despite the gray walls, it always had a warmth to it that made it feel just like home. Many of the occupants also believed that. You spent so much of your time here as a student, and you lived with the other students and slept in the same dorm rooms. You celebrated holidays together if you didn't go home, and you often went through some deep things with your fellow students. How could it not feel like home?

As he reflected upon his own past at Hogwarts, the smooth voice of the boy interrupted his thoughts, "It is beautiful, is it not?" He must've caught the smile on Harry's face.

"Yes. Hogwarts is a beautiful school. I've heard many great things about this place," Harry stated with a slight eagerness. It did feel great to be back in his old school. And now there was a bit of mystery as to how and why he was even here. He loved mysteries.

"As you should have heard. What's your name?" The boy inquired searchingly. They were getting closer to the headmaster's office. Yet, when he asked the question the boy had stopped. His dark eyes bored into Harry's. It was just a name...why did he look like that?

Harry let his more Slytherin side come into play as he only responded with, "You know, it's only polite to give your name first, since you're the one who asked."

His eyes narrowed. In the flickering candlelight something about him seemed dangerous. The shadows played across his slightly curled dark hair. Then came the smile. It was made of ice, "My name is Tom Riddle."

Tom Riddle? Somehow the name sounded familiar. Harry quickly wracked his brain looking for an answer. Where had he heard that name before? Then he got the answer. Tom Riddle was a politician. A very famous one who worked in the Ministry of Magic. He was a notable dark wizard, so his family never quite leaned towards his side. But at least the man was rational. Yet, if Tom Riddle was currently past his fifties...what on Earth was he doing here at around sixteen years old?

He kept his thoughts to himself as he blandly responded with, "Harry Potter." There were no nice to meet you's. Harry got the feeling his slight challenge was welcomed. Then again he didn't really care. What he cared about most was getting home. Not some silly boy's odd response to a name.

Tom Riddle nodded. Harry got the feeling that he was doing more than just nodding. He got the feeling that the dark eyed boy was mentally cataloging everything he knew so far about himself. It was a slightly eerie feeling. They continued through the halls until they reached the gigantic griffin that was so familiar to Harry. Tom didn't pause as he quietly murmured the password, just loud enough to where Harry couldn't hear it.

The stairs revealed themselves as the griffin hopped out of the way. Tom headed up the stairs first, once again assuming that Harry would follow. He would for now, just in order to keep up the pretense. But after this, Harry wouldn't be following him ever again. He hated assumptions. He wasn't a follower. He was a trail blazer.

Harry wanted to pretend that he was just hallucinating and as soon as he walked up the stairs, he would see Albus Dumbledore. Then he could tell the eccentric man about his trippy experience. However, he got the feeling that wouldn't be the case. He was right. Instead of Dumbledore there was a short older gentleman who appeared to be slowly going bald.

The man stared in confusion at Harry as Harry began to speak, "Forgive me for the interruption, sir. But...I need to speak with you. It's of extreme importance." He then glanced over to his left and noticed Tom Riddle still standing there. If he didn't have better control over himself, his face would have showed his supreme annoyance. Instead he only smiled in a slightly strained way, "In private, please." As soon as he spoke those words he felt a death stare radiating from around where Tom stood.


End file.
